


The Stain of Guilt

by truth_renowned



Series: One-Word Prompts [18]
Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 04:03:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12182538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_renowned/pseuds/truth_renowned
Summary: Peggy tries to cope with the fallout of a mission gone bad. Inspired by the word ‘injustice’.





	The Stain of Guilt

_Repentant tears wash out the stain of guilt._  
~ Saint Augustine

 

Peggy collapsed on the couch, thoroughly exhausted, mentally and physically. The mission, which she headed as a favor to Chester Phillips, was one of the roughest she’d ever experienced. They succeeded in uncovering a HYDRA cell but at the cost of three of her team, three good men with families and bright futures.

Her muscles screamed from exertion and her mind screamed from the injustice of lives lost. During the war, she saw men fall, and she was heartbroken but strong enough to carry on. Not this time. Somehow these deaths cut her more deeply than any others. Maybe it was because she now had a family of her own. Not coming home to her two children and to Daniel was a fate worse than death. A fate that three men on her watch were forced to meet.

She was filthy, choosing to forego a shower in order to catch a plane home as quickly as possible. She was hungry but food made her stomach turn. She wanted to cry but didn’t have the energy to produce tears.

She heard Daniel’s familiar gait, the metallic ‘thunk’ getting closer. He squeezed her shoulder, and she opened her eyes. His expression was so soft, so loving, that tears pricked her eyes. She sighed and closed her eyes again as his fingers tangled in her hair, then caressed her cheek. Her eyes snapped open as his hand took hers, and he helped her off the couch. 

He led her into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet seat. She let him undress her, too lethargic to do something as simple as unbuttoning a shirt or unfastening undergarments.

He pulled her into a standing position to remove her slacks and underwear. She leaned against the bathroom counter, eyes open to slits, watching as he undressed himself and removed his prosthetic.

Taking her hand again, he led her into the stand-up shower, placing his crutch just outside of the shower head’s reach. He leaned against the side and turned on the water, then turned her so that her back faced the faucet. The temperature was almost too hot to handle, but she stood there, letting the water sluice her back. She closed her eyes, then swayed, having to reach out to Daniel to steady herself. He was there, as he always was.

His hands glided over her body, and little bubbles slid down her skin. She should have been embarrassed, having to be cleaned, but she was relieved instead. She truly didn’t have the energy or desire to do this for herself.

He turned her around slowly, the water flowing over her, trying its best to wash away her despair. She wished it luck, as there was nothing that would clean her mind of the continuous loop of those deaths.

He pulled her closer to him, and his fingertips massaged her scalp, slow pressure that felt so good. She leaned against him, her hands on his chest, letting him support her weight. The more his fingers worked, the more her agony came to the surface.

Finally, the tears fell, powerful sobs wracking her body, blow after mental blow of watching the three men riddled with bullets. Daniel held her to him, her tears mixing with the water on his shoulder. She cried more than she could ever remember crying, even as a child when she hurt herself or lost her favorite toy sword. She loved that sword...

After several minutes, he moved her under the shower head to get the shampoo out of her hair. He then turned off the water and grabbed the towels hanging outside of the shower. He dried her off quickly, then himself.

“Let’s head to bed,” he said.

“No, I should start my--”

Daniel’s hands went to her shoulders, precariously balancing himself without his crutch. “Bed.”

She met his gaze and sighed. With a nod, she headed toward the bedroom. She listened to his bare foot slap against the bathroom floor, knowing he was struggling with his prosthetic off and only one crutch. Usually he needed either both crutches or her help. She should help him. She should. With what seemed like enormous effort, she turned to him but he shook his head. 

“I’m fine. Go.”

She nodded slowly and turned back around, making her way into the bedroom. She crawled into the bed, curling up in a ball, fighting the urge to cry again. Why was she feeling like this? What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she just buck up and get over it like she had so many times before?

She felt the mattress dip, opening her eyes to see Daniel sitting on the bed. His fingers softly moved her still-wet hair from her cheek.

“My hair,” she said. “I should pin it.”

“No. You can deal with it tomorrow. Right now, try to get some sleep.”

Sleep? Was he joking? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw those three men. Saw their wives she never met, saw their children she never met...

The bed dipped again as Daniel started to stand but she reached out, her hand on his good thigh. 

“Stay with me?”

He nodded without hesitation, stretching out next to her. She immediately molded herself to his side, head on his chest, arm draped over his waist. Holding him close. Because she could. He was here and so was she. Alive.

“I'm sorry,” she said, though she wasn't sure for precisely what. 

“You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for. You are not responsible for those deaths.”

She looked up, surprised.

“Phillips called me,” he said. “He didn't give me specifics but he did say there were casualties and you weren't taking it well.”

She huffed out a sour laugh as she lowered her head back to his chest.

He brushed his hand along her arm. “I know you, Peg. You did your best.”

“If I had done my best, those men would be going home to their families alive, not in pine boxes.” She hated the bitterness in her voice but she couldn’t help it.

“How do you know that? How do you know that anything you did differently would have saved them?”

She didn't answer, knowing he was right. 

“What if it had been you?” he asked softly.

She bit back tears. “And that's what I feel most guilty about. I'm relieved it wasn't me. I got to come home to you and Michael and Beth, and I am so selfishly happy about that.” She gasped. “The children. I should go see them.”

She started to pull away from Daniel, but he held her tight.

“I decided to take them to the Jarvises for the night,” he said. “I figured you could use some time before seeing them.”

She wanted to be angry with him but again, he was right. She was in no shape to see the children right now. She didn’t want them to see their mum so broken.

“I didn’t tell them you were coming home,” he said. “You can surprise them tomorrow morning at the Jarvises.”

She relaxed against him. “Yes, that was a good idea. Thank you.”

“Try to get some sleep, okay?”

She nodded against his chest, a yawn stretching her lips. She didn't think she'd be able to sleep, but in the warmth and safety of her husband’s embrace, she did just that.


End file.
